Mentalist Episode Tag: Red Gold, 3x15
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Jane and Lisbon deal with the aftermath of Lisbon's injury in two distinctly different ways.  Fluffy one-shot tag with a hint of Jisbon.  Spoilers for episode 3x15.  No copyright infringement intended.


A/N: I LOVED this episode! I love it when Jane is gleeful. Had me laughing from start to finish (despite the disturbing new side to Hightower we saw, and the shocking scenes from next week's epi!). And might I just say, Simon Baker was totally rocking that navy blue pea coat. Holy cow, he's hot! But I digress…The last scene between Jane and Lisbon was so lovely, it made me feel all warm and gooey inside. I just couldn't resist adding more to it. Here goes…

**Episode Tag: Red Gold, 3x15**

Teacup in hand, Jane followed Lisbon out of the break room and back to her office. He found himself limping a little himself at the hit in the shin he'd just taken from her crutch, but the pain made him grin. She was envious of his time spent on the gold mining case with Hightower. This was the wonderful capper to a great couple of days spent in the mountains, getting back to nature, toying with the locals. Good times. Now a little Lisbon jealousy—who could ask for anything more?

He tried to stop himself from chuckling at Lisbon's awkwardness on her crutches. This was a woman unused to being incapacitated, unused to asking for help. He found it wonderfully endearing to see her so helpless now. He sipped his tea and stood behind her at her office door as she surveyed the damage left by Hightower's children. She sighed and her chin dropped to her chest. She was tired and no doubt in pain, which was why he couldn't resist teasing her a little more.

"Need some help tidying up?" he spoke right into the back of her neck and she jumped in surprise.

"How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me! One of these days, Jane—"

"I know—to the moon! Sorry. At least the crutches would allow me a head start before you began firing at me."

She looked over her shoulder at him, giving him her _extremely annoyed with Jane _look that he knew and loved so well. He grinned and held out a hand so she would continue into her uncharacteristically messy office.

"So," he continued conversationally. "Not only were you confined to the office, but you had babysitting detail for the boss. You appear to have survived."

"They were sweet, and really no problem. The CBI is just too boring and no place for _children_." She gave him a meaningful look at that last word, and he laughed out loud.

"Is that somehow an aspersion upon my character?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. But I _would_ like to point out that childish behavior is what put me in this position in the first place."

He smiled. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he mocked, knowing full well that his ill-advised cry of _gold _to those prospectors was what had led to her falling and spraining her ankle in that icy cold stream.

He set his cup on her desk and began picking up throw pillows from the floor, tossing them back onto the white whale of a couch. He re-folded the crumpled blanket and laid it over the back, all the while fully aware of Lisbon's tired eyes upon him. Before she could see what he was about, he went over to where she still stood by the door, and, without further ado, picked the startled agent up into his arms. She dropped her crutches in surprise.

"Jane—" she sputtered.

Even though he hadn't picked up anything much larger than a blueberry muffin in months, he had no trouble carrying the featherweight woman toward the couch. On the contrary, he was startled at the way it made him feel-so masculine and protective. His heart squeezed a little as he looked down into her flushed face, all ruffled feathers and perturbation. His eyes became suddenly serious, and he was aware the moment her demeanor changed as well. She'd felt it too, whatever it was that had passed between them, and she averted her dazed green eyes as he laid her gently on the white cushions. He didn't take the time to analyze the rapidness of his heartbeat, the slight trembling in his legs and hands.

Jane covered his swirling emotions by propping her injured ankle upon a pillow, then spreading the blanket over her. She didn't protest, similarly affected by her own untenable reaction to his nearness.

"Thanks," she said softly, sighing in relief as she lay back against the cushions.

He felt her gaze upon him, but for once, he couldn't think of a witty thing to say, so he simply nodded, then picked up his tea and sat on the floor, his back against the couch. He took a thoughtful sip.

"Madeline was good for a fling," he finally managed, picking up the strand of their conversation from the break room. "But she's a very demanding mistress. I don't think I could handle that much of a workout on a daily basis."

He heard rather than saw Lisbon's smile. "Why Jane, are you saying that you missed me?"

He grinned in relief that they were back on familiar ground. "Of course I missed you. Hightower doesn't fully appreciate my…_unconventional_ methods like you do."

She laughed, and the sound washed over him, reviving him like a breath of mountain air.

"What you actually mean is that she hasn't fully built up the Jane immunity that it took me years of exposure for what modicum of resistance that I do have." Her characterization of him as a sort of disease amused him to no end.

"And once I'm in your system…" He leaned his head back on the cushion and grinned up at her. He felt her hand beneath his hair, saw her eyes soften at the feel of his curls against her skin. He closed his eyes when she inadvertently touched his scalp in order to remove her hand, but he was unaccountably pleased to feel that it didn't stray far, that she still touched his hair with her fingertips.

She cleared her throat. "Typhoid Jane has no known cure," she finished shakily.

Reluctantly, he lifted his head, fearful he might do something crazy, like nuzzle into her hand. The conversation fizzled, and they relaxed in silence, Lisbon closing her eyes—just for a moment-Jane reliving the last five minutes in his mind while his tea grew cool in his hands. He _had_ missed her, even the yelling and the griping. She was his other half, the yin to his yang, the milk in his tea, the Alice to his Ralph. Sure, Hightower had done her fair share of griping, but it just wasn't the same. When Hightower griped, she did so out of annoyance and frustration. Okay, come to think of it, they _were _quite a bit alike in that regard. He supposed the difference really was that Lisbon was his friend. Lisbon griped out of caring and concern. He grinned at the thought. They had developed a rapport that was based on mutual respect. She respected that she couldn't change him; he respected that she understood that about him.

"Lisbon?"

"Hmmm?"

"I was thinking…"

"Should I be scared?"

"Tsk, tsk, Teresa. Your ankle is making you cranky."

"No, it's just you."

"Anyway," he plowed forward, "to make that up to you, since I suppose I am _slightly_ to blame for your injury—"

"Slightly?"

He rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored her. "I thought I would carry you down to my car and drive you home, then see to it that you get settled in your apartment. Tomorrow's Saturday, so you can stay home all weekend and recover by keeping off your feet."

"There are a couple of things wrong with that thought of yours. For one, you will not—I repeat—_not_ carry me anywhere else, understand?"

"But it will take you forever, with many pauses and twinges of intense pain, just to make it down to the parking lot."

"I have crutches, and it's not like I have to use the stairs, Jane. And second, while I appreciate the offer of driving me home, it was my left ankle that was sprained, so I can still drive, no problem."

He made a scoffing noise. "Yeah, right. Van Pelt said you've been falling all over yourself all day, refusing to admit that you're really hurt."

"It's just a sprain, Jane. And you've seen me use the crutches. I've accepted that I'm not exactly operating at full capacity right now."

"Full capacity? What are you, a dishwasher?"

That gentle hand that had so recently caressed his curls, suddenly slapped him upside the head so hard he thought he felt his brain shifting around in his skull.

"Hey!" he barked, laughing and ducking to avoid the possibility of a second attack.

"Smartass. Well I'll tell you something, Jane. I for one enjoyed our two days apart. It was a relief to babysit actual babies for a change. Come to think of it, I might milk this ankle thing for all its worth. Wrangle it so that you spend even _more_ days with Hightower, since she's so _dynamic_ and all, and you had such a powerful _connection._"

"This pettiness is very unbecoming, Lisbon." He moved his head just in time to escape another smacking, then got awkwardly to his feet, trying not to spill his half-full cup.

"Go home, Jane," she growled.

"On one condition," he replied, with his trademark smile. She was disappointingly immune.

"You have no right to be dictating conditions to me, _Boss's pet_."

"Ah-ha! Jealous, just like I thought. Well, I'm not leaving until you agree to go home and put your foot up. Maybe put it on ice and stay off it all weekend." He helpfully picked up her crutches and propped them up within easy reach.

"Fine. But not because you told me to—it is the logical, most intelligent thing to do, so therefore, I'd already come to that conclusion on my own. I might even take Monday off too."

He paused a beat, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Hightower ordered you to, didn't she?"

She looked away from his probing eyes, which of course confirmed his suspicions. He laughed. "That's it, isn't it? Well, Mom loves me better, now doesn't she?"

The throw pillow hit its mark, colliding with his stomach. He _oofed, _and barely managed to prevent his tea from spilling on the floor.

"I'm going, I'm going. Have a nice long weekend in front of the TV, Lisbon. Despite your piss-poor attitude, my offer still stands…"

"Not even if _both_ my ankles were sprained!"she called after him.

She heard him laughing all the way down the hall.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A half-hour later, after a painful trek through the first floor lobby then out into the parking lot, Lisbon heaved a sigh of relief upon reaching her SUV. She opened the door and stashed her crutches in the passenger's side, then, reached up and hoisted herself up by the safety handles on the interior roof. She sat in the seat a moment, catching her breath and rotating her shoulders, then massaging her armpits in a very unladylike fashion. She was unaware that Jane was still in the parking lot, having moved his Citroen where it was concealed by some rarely used company vehicles, but he was still able to see her clearly from his hidden vantage point. He grinned and sometimes flinched at her progress from the door to her SUV, but he restrained himself from running to her aid. She was a very stubborn woman, his Lisbon, which was precisely why he would be following her home and making sure she got inside her apartment okay. He'd watch out for her, like he always did, whether she liked it or not.

A/N: How I wish we could have seen an extension of that last brilliant scene of this episode. Thank goodness for fanfiction, right? Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear what you think!


End file.
